A Khaotic MunkWeek
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: My entry for BroadwayKhaos's Jellicle Week. When Munkustrap gets his fortune read he's warned that his week isn't going to go as smoothly as any other regular lay-in-the-sun, sleep-my-life-away, lick-my-junk cat week. But... what exactly makes for a "crazy" cat week? And there's Munk eating a cookie :3
1. A Crazy what-now?

Well, it's official! I've finally gathered up the gall to enter BroadwayKhaos's Jellicle Week contest. How many times have I come across this contest, say I'll enter, and then lie O_O Too long.

**_ATTENTION CATS WRITERS!_**

BroadwayKhaos and I are hosting a new forum to help revive the fanbase! This forum-community duo will be starting lots of cool activities to stimulate this dust storm! Things like review circles and one-for-one review programs, idea sharing, and lots more! The Forum is "Fandom Restoration- Old Favorites" and the forum is Fandom Reboot. Check it out, sign up, or chat with me or Broadway! Great for new writers looking to make some pals!

* * *

"I've had my fortune read today. Apparently I'm in for a pretty crazy week." Beside him a great blond mass of mane quivered with silent laughter and lazily rolled over to smother the drowsy Tugger as he lay on his stomach.

A glazed brown eye slid open to roll about the— quite possibly hollow— cavern of his skull."Hmmm… thought you didn't believe in that loony quack, Munk."

"I don't," Munkustrap agreed, "I was jumped on my way home form the pier."

"Then what's the problem?"

Munkustrap rolled over onto his stomach as well, resting his chin on his paws he looked out from the tire to lazily drag his gaze across the sunbathing Jellicles. All of them lost in their heat-induced ecstasy, purring and looking about as carefree as, well, cats. "What do you think a 'crazy' week would be like around here?"

"Huh!" Tugger pondered, picking through his mane in thought and flicking it out of his mouth periodically as it moved in to finally kill him. "As Protector or as Munkustrap? Because either way you should probably craw into a cave somewhere and wait it out."

Munkustrap snorted and stifled an amused chuckle so as to not disturb the sleeping Mistoffelees beside him. He glanced at the litter of bodies cluttering the clearing and gasped, a dramatic paw draped across a ridiculous charade of fear. "One of them might wake up or roll over or— Oh, I can't bring myself to think about it anymore! I'm a goner, Tug!"

"Yup!" the Coon yawned. "You're screwed, bro."

"Well, at any rate, the crazy nut job that read me was… a couple whiskers short of sane." He paused to reach out over the edge of the tire until his shoulder sang a beautiful _crack_ and left his limp paw to dangle off the luxuriously sweltering black rubber. "I think she might have followed me home."

The body beside his tensed and stretched in the most dignified way someone Tugger's size and furriness could without looking too adorable or exceptionally constipated. He gently rested a paw on Munkustrap's back, pushing as he gently teased, "So if some bugger comes looking for you I'll tell them you ran off to join a mariachis band in Piccadilly."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Just then Mistoffelees sneezed into his side, paw jerking to lightly smack him in the hip. "Sorry," the tux murmured in his sleep then fell quiet once again. Somewhere below them someone farted and Etcetera rolled over to snuggle up against Jemima. Munkustrap's eyes went wide when he caught Tugger's sleepy gaze.

"And so it begins!"

* * *

**And so it has, Munkustrap, so it has. :]**


	2. Day 1: Knight in Shining Armor

_Well! Here's day one! For the story I'm really trying out a new skin for Munkustrap, one that isn't exactly as uptight and pole-up-the-arse as we've come to know and trust :P_

_Big shout out to Delphicoracle-Cat!_

* * *

"Look you two, I know you're upset but there's really nothing I can do." Laying atop the tire soaking as much UVA and UVBs as he could through the thick clouds, Munkustrap tried once again to discourage the kittens' barrage of pleas and constant, whiny, inconsolable appeals for an 'awesomely scary Protector' to help them. Yes, he agreed that he was pretty awesome and he was of the protecting variety, but this time they were out of luck.

"Aw, Munkustrap! C'moooon!" Pouncival drawled with the full effect of his wide grey eyes boring into him like they did every other cat that dared tell him 'no'. Munkustrap stared back dully; he and Tugger *invented* that look, there was not a stripe on his body that bought into his little game.

Beside him Tumblebrutus managed a very convincing 'hopeless pauper' look. "You said you were here to help every Jellicle, no matter how big or small the problem!" Totally not what he said, but a very admirable play.

"That poodle took our toy and it's your job to get it back for us!" Pouncival wailed. There was no ignoring the glances they attracted from the other Jellicles, especially the army lineup of the other kittens standing at attention behind the two tomkits.

"You were playing with a dog toy, Pounce!"

This sparked a rather sassy look from the now slightly less defeated looking Tumblebrutus. "You play with toys too, I've seen you!"

The tabby stopped short, eyes narrowing to slits as he leaned in to the smug kitten. "What have you seen?"

"Enough to destroy you," Tumble grinned. Beside him Pouncival was grinning from ear to ear, the line of kits a short ways away hadn't heard much but they clearly saw his will power wilt at the paws of their soon to be heroes. "So are you going to help us get that blimey pooch?"

Munkustrap shuddered at the mention of that bloody poodle. He knew it well, had a couple run-ins with it in his day; now the thing had reproduced and five little devil spawns ran around the backyard oh-so-conveniently placed right next to the junkyard. Mocking him. Yipping at all hours of the day. No. There was no way he was going to step foot anywhere near that Cat-forsaken place. Nuh uh!

Munkustrap watched the evil duo suppress the maniacal cackles he knew they'd spent hours practicing. Kicking himself on the inside and knowing nothing but regret could come of this he swallowed hard. "There's something seriously wrong with you."

* * *

"So you _caved_? Just like that!"

"No, I put up a good fight," Munkustrap sighed, eying the flimsy chain-link fence that separated him from years of kittenhood trauma and the very epitome of everything he loathed. Damn poodles! "They—umm… they blackmailed me."

"WHAT!?" Tugger howled with laughter, some of it slightly nervous, Munkustrap knew, because Cat knows if the two tomkits could blackmail _him_ of all toms Tugger was royally screwed. But right now he was safe so he was free to laugh at his grown brother's manipulation. "Did they catch you eating toothpaste again?"

There was a tear in the fence— he didn't even want to imagine how that happened— and he crept up to it. "No," he panted, fear telling him he should just admit defeat, adrenalin siding with his pride and suggesting he tear the fence clear off and show that ugly pollicle who's boss! "Much worse— It doesn't look like they're home."

Though their view was blocked by a rather prickly looking shrub, the backyard was silent and Munkustrap was more than a little relieved that he could theft in peace. "Maybe they're inside," Tugger suggested as he leaned up against the fence and watched Munkustrap stare off into the slice trying to focus on a plan or, as Tugger wholeheartedly believed, psyching himself to actually take the first step forward.

It had taken quite a while before Munkustrap moved again, and the first move he made was a step back towards the junkyard. "No! I didn't waste all this time to watch you pussy out! Get in there!" With a hard shove Tugger crammed the tabby through the fence, following in after him he blocked the way out and ignored every curse, smack, and plea to move. "Get the toy!" Tugger hissed, nodding towards the yard beyond the bush.

"I hate you!" Munkustrap spat back. In turn Tugger reared back and all but kicked the tabby out onto the shriveled yellow-brown grass. Picking the clods of dirt from his teeth, Munkustrap straightened himself and scanned the poodle's territory.

To the right of the square yard was the squat orange house; to the left a thick-bodied tree, a dog house, and some kind of half-built sandbox blemished the already ugly yard. It took a very long moment of paranoia to come to the very obvious conclusion that there was no one outside.

"Hey, Tug!" Munkustrap called over his shoulder laughing. "What do you say we leave Fido a little gift in the sandbox?" Tugger's head peaked out from the garden, his hushed laugh shaking the leaves and teeth glowing in the shade.

Upon closer inspection Munkustrap couldn't find the kits' toy among the clutter. He crossed to the patio to check under the human toys (chairs, tables, barbecue, etc.) but found nothing there. A small box by the patio door looked promising with large pool toys and colourful towels; he didn't question the inappropriate swimming paraphernalia instead inspected it with due diligence until…

"HOLY F-Ahh!" One of the pollicle pups had apparently spotted him through the window (go figure!) and befittingly rammed into the thick glass with its big brick of a head. Tugger, who had inched his way to the sandbox, startled and arched at the hideous sight of the pup. "What's wrong with it?" Munkustrap gasped, swallowing back a very queen-like 'eeeeewww!' and a little bit of vomit. "It looks deformed: it's hideous!"

Tugger peered past him into the window and crinkled his face at the sight. "I think it's wet. It must have taken a bath."

"That's vile."

"I know," Tugger snickered, eying the sandbox he'd left unviolated. "We should hurry, though, before Big Ugly comes out."

Right; though extremely similar, this was not a showing at the zoo. They were here for business. Munkustrap turned his back to the horrible thing and trotted towards the back of the garden to the dog house. Like people and their houses this one must be full of clutter and toys as well.

Munkustrap poked his head in, took one delicate step inside, and leaped out onto the grass gagging and heaving into the dirt. "Bast!"

From a squat in the sandbox, Tugger laughed and snorted, straining to finish up quickly to investigate for himself. Luckily he wasn't too keen on covering up this masterpiece so he too got to get a good healthy whiff of the dog house before Munkustrap finished gagging. "That's unholy," the Coon frowned, tossing a cautious glance at his brother who'd painfully made his way over to his side.

The two toms stared into the crowded abyss, seeing not the toy they came looking for but a treasure planet of squeaky toys, tug-of-war ropes, and stuffies. Munkustrap cleared his throat and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "What… what did the kits' toy look like?"

"I don't know."

"It looked like none of your business!" _Don't scream. For Bast's sake don't scream!_ Slowly the two Jellicles glanced at each other, and then to the newcomer behind them. For the first time since his kittenhood Munkustrap was face-to-face with the cause of his nightmares. Good thing he swallowed that vomit earlier because he was certainly going to need it now. "What are you doing here, Munky?"

Munkustrap cringed under the assault of feces and kibble-gravy dribbling out of this creature's mouth. Beside him Tugger held his paw over his face. "Fido," the tabby greeted curtly. He cleared his throat for the big-ticket Jellicle Protector voice of authority. "I believe you've taken something from us— I-I mean our kittens. You took a toy that our kits were playing with." Gosh he hoped that didn't sound as lame as he thought it did. Tugger's inquisitive side-glance reassured him it had.

"One of my pups must have taken it," Fido growled, a playful gleam in his eye. "I know how much you don't care for my company in the junkyard."

_No, I really _really _don't_, he thought with hot bile pooling at the backs of his teeth. "Well!" he barked too loudly, "I would appreciate it if we handled this like adults and— and you give us the toy so we can be on our— LOOK A SQUIRREL!"

At his very high, very queen-like scream, Fido twisted his impossibly curly fur/hair/wool covered body to where Munkustrap pointed past him. Tugger gaped and craned to see but Munkustrap grabbed his wrist and yanked him back towards the bush; the dog still looking for the squirrel.

"The toys!" Tugger hissed behind him, pointing back at the dog house. Everlasting he just couldn't catch a break today! He dug hard into the dirt with his heels and dodged Tugger's tumbling body to haul towards the tiny structure. He ignored the smell when he dove in to the blankets and toys and began sifting through the collection.

Fido snuffed and barked. It wouldn't take long before he sniffed him out and chewed him a new one. With no time to left to waste Munkustrap gave up looking and threw them all into the center of the blanket to tie it up and lug over his back: one of these must be Tumble and Pounce's!

"MUNK!" Tugger hollered outside. That was all the encouragement he needed to high tail it out of there.

He'd just made it out halfway, Tugger reaching for him from the bushes, when Fido locked in on him and charged at full speed. This impossibly fast creature had caught up to him just feet from his escape, but not before Munkustrap was able to throw Tugger the bag.

Before he had a chance to scream Fido barreled into him and knocked his comparably itty-bitty hide to the dirt. "Everlasting, Munk!"

"Save yourself, Tug!" Munkustrap cried, shamelessly crying kicking and screaming like the terrified kitten of his past as Fido pawed at him. "Tell Misto I—"

Oh. Holy. Hell. Mouth open and gasping for breath, Fido picked the perfect time to run his fat, sloppy tongue over the entire half of his face; drool coated everything— even his eye was glued shut. Slobber showered on him as Fido panted happily at his screams, some falling into his mouth and choking off his desperate wailing.

Once he had a thoroughly coated Munkustrap, Fido nudged his flailing body around in the dirt with his nose and pounced the scrambling tabby with every feeble attempt at escape. "Just like old times, eh?!" Fido howled and reached down to lick up the length of Munkustrap's back. Eventually the tom just gave up and let Fido have his sick, twisted way with him until Fido's human (summoned by the horrible wails) called him back inside.

"…Damn!" Tugger chortled, watching on safely from the other side of the flimsy chain-link fence.

* * *

"Whoa-No way! Wow, Munkustrap, you're the greatest!"

Munkustrap managed a dry smirk when the kittens gleefully tore into the disgusting bag and shrieked in delight at the hundreds of toys and playthings, each in turn thanking him a good five-dozen times. The adults watched on fondly as the kits rolled in their new treasures, but watched Munkustrap carefully and made sure to stay a relatively safe distance away.

He hadn't seen himself since Tugger peeled him out of the dirt in Fido's yard and honestly he didn't quite care to. He stunk, his fur was sticking up at ungodly angles, and he was quaking like a leaf… a mirror really wasn't necessary.

Of course having not only faced the dreaded pollicle but also bringing back the coveted treasure (and then some) immediately placed him at the esteemed level of Hero among the kittens. Naturally his title did not translate to the older cats but he did manage to snag the— albeit sometimes sarcastic— nickname of _Munkustrap: knight in shining armor_.

Sadly his shining armor stunk so he wouldn't be getting much more than a friendly nod from Jenny and Jelly, a vigorous handshake from Tugger (who refused to touch him the whole walk back), and a very awkward pat on the shoulder from Mistoffelees.

"Excuse me," he murmured once all the hype and festivities had died down and the kittens had lost interest in their new toys. The mental trauma finally began sinking in and the memories rushing back as the shock of it all wore off. "I'm going to go puke."


	3. Day 2: Doorway

_Day 2 for this wicked awesome contest! I'm super excited to show you guys what I have lined up for day 3- Oh, and day 4! Day 5 is pretty fun too, and don't get me started on days 6 and 7! Oh, this will be a fun week!_

_Now on to the festivities! _

* * *

After a long, grueling night of insomnia (coupled with post-traumatic stress disorder induced flashbacks) Munkustrap decided today he would make Alonzo keep watch and take a day for himself. Unfortunately everyone else, his own mate included, had plans that could not make room for an impromptu day for Munkustrap so he had to make due with his own company.

That's alright because Munkustrap was flexible and could have a perfectly fine time by himself… as sad as that may sound.

He knew of a rather nice place by the pond where he could relax for a few hours, maybe fish, clean the horrid smell that clung to him harder than white to rice, and shake off his post-disaster jitters before the sleep-screaming drives Mistoffelees to kicking him to the doghouse. Heh.

Ambling down the smooth path to the pond he smiled, closed his eyes, and tried to enjoy the calming peace and the finally sunny day. It wouldn't be long now before he could lie in the sun and catch a much needed nap.

Lights flashed behind his eyelids as his nose mashed into his face… followed by the rest of his face and his body squeezing accordion-style, momentarily making a very compact and a not-too-momentarily unimpressed Munkustrap.

"Oooh," he huffed, bringing his paw up to cup his nose and wipe the water from his eyes. Once he could properly see he was free to take a good gander at the tall blurr before him.

It was… a door?

"What the…!" Munkustrap sized up the thing; it definitely was a door. A door he'd never seen before! That was impossible, doors just don't appear out of nowhere… yet here he was pulling splinters out of his cheek.

The frame was slightly wider than any door he'd seen in his days as a housecat, the wood was almost black with age and the doorknob… well there wasn't any. What kind of door doesn't have a knob?!

Curiously he stalked the length of the base, poking his nose here and there but coming up with nothing more than the smell of— you guessed it— a door. The sides were impassable: junk, garbage, and plasticine made a solid wall that completely blocked the path down to the pond. _How queer!_

"I guess I'll just have to go through it," Munkustrap sighed, reaching up to press himself against the knob-less door. It opened eagerly and soon the pond was in sight again. He thought about playing with the door a little longer, but that wasn't his problem today; he'll have to remember to care tomorrow.

And Munkustrap was off again! One foot in front of the other, and then over the bloody doorjamb, he continued down the path.

As he walked a paranoid chill crept up the ladder of his spine much as Fido's tongue had the day before; it made Munkustrap shiver and stop to try and shake the feeling. Today was all about relaxing. But the feeling wasn't going away— if anything it was getting worse!

He shivered now and his muscles quaked for warmth. Smacking himself in the head hadn't helped so it was either he go find witnesses to his impending mental break or freeze out here alone. At least with witnesses he would make a good show.

When he'd gone back he was met with the knowing mouth of the doorway, grinning like the stupid wooden thing it was. _Yeah yeah_, he thought as he stepped over the jamb again, _let's all just judge Munkustrap and his… huh?_

Once over the jamb and making his way back up the path, the chill had completely melted against the glaring sun. Well, if the moment's passed and there's no need to hurry back for the big show he might was well carry out his plans of going to the pond.

Around he turned and began the trek back with a new air of relief. Sticking his tongue out at the wood he grinned and passed through once again. "Thought you'd gotten rid of me, eh?" The spring in his step rusted when again he was met with the creeping cold feeling again.

Panic bubbled inside him: he really was going crazy! Maybe he could talk to the twins: see how long he had left before he finally lost it. Again he found himself getting colder and colder, it became a struggle to keep his teeth from chattering.

Fully freaked out now he booked it back towards the clearing, passing under the door and getting a hard smack to the senses as the heat of sun against his face shocked him back to sanity. He skidded to a stop just inches out of the door's fat mouth.

Munkustrap struggled a moment to make sense of what was happening: his face and chest were warm— hot even, and his rump was freezing. There's no words to describe how incredibly confused and close to throwing his paws up and calling it quits he was.

Okay. So his chest and face, on the one side of the door, were hot. The… erm… _back end_ was on the other side and about to fall off.

He smacked himself with his warm paw. "Of course!" he exclaimed, as if it were the the most obvious, normal thing ever, "It's the door!" Obviously he wasn't going crazy because it was the freaking door! He sure felt silly! Ha ha ha!

Smirking he trotted out the door into the sun, stopped, and turned back to the wooden beast. "You're a clever git, you," he murmured, crouching low on his belly.

With a loud yell he charged the door and soared through the threshold into the winter air. Landing he laughed as snow began to trickle down onto his fur. Once he'd caught enough snow he soared back through the door to watch the snow melt and steam off his fur with a face-cracking grin.

Eager to see what else he could do with this strange door, he passed beneath it again to sit atop the light dust of snow. When he'd frosted enough he slowly slinked back to the door but stopped halfway through and watched the snow melt off the front part of his body and collect on the back.

He laughed. He laughed at the insanity of it— the snow, the cold, the door— and he laughed at how crazy he would sound if he dared speak a word of this to anyone! Even the whimsical and fantastical Mr. Mistoffelees would think him off his rocker!

Ah well! Maybe the junkyard could do with one less loony running around checking for weather-changing doors. He decided then that it was time he put his door to rest and find something more mundane and normal to occupy his time.

Walking back through the door with a quiet chuckle, he waited until the last of the snow melted off his coat to leave. Oddly the snow stuck to him longer than before…

A quick swipe of his paw and the snow was cleared, which reminded him that he needed to give himself another bath before long.

Munkustrap frowned when the white flecks reappeared on his coat. Running his paw back over the fur it came back wet and cool. "…What?"

Looking up the door sat stiffly, unmoving, but the snow continued, floating down the wrong side of the wooden jamb.

What had he done!? He brought the weather in! They couldn't have another winter already, the Jellicle Ball would be snowed-in! And it would all be his fault!

Panicking, Munkustrap threw himself at the door, jumping up for a knob that wasn't there and falling in the shallow snow.

Standing up on his hind legs he reached up and stabbed his claws into the mushy wood, getting a firm hold before awkwardly tip-toeing back to the "warm" side of the door.

He closed the door with a heavy _slam_ and loosened his claws to lower back to all fours and watch the snow fall. The flakes came down thicker and heavier than before.

"Oh no!" Munkustrap gasped. The poor tabby stood on shaky legs, shuffled nervously looking for something to stop the snow, the panic spreading faster with every passing snowflake.

Soon he couldn't handle it anymore and did the first thing that came to mind: he ran.

If he'd kept the door closed none of this would have happened! If he hadn't played with the freaking weather he wouldn't have let it into the junkyard! If he'd just went with being crazy the first time the burden of ruining the junkyard would have been on someone else!

And if he would just look back down the path…

He would have seen Mistoffelees fall off the top of the door, holding his sides and turning blue in silent hysterics.

* * *

_Mistoffelees is a horrible horrible person. Someone needs to give him a good spanking! I nominate me!_


	4. Day 3: Are You Serious?

_Day 3 with the fantabulous Rumpiss Cat! I really wanted to give him a cool, almost Tugger-like bravado but ended up with... this._

**InkWoven: **I'm looking forward to posting chapter four! It's probably my favourite chapter so far (for various reasons). So hold tight and wait until tomorrow :D

* * *

"You can't be serious… you've never heard of the Rumpus Cat?!"

"I have never heard of the _Rumpiss_ Cat," Skimbleshanks shrugged. "I don't mean to disappoint but I'm an old tom with no new tricks."

Rumpus Cat, eyes fearfully blazing, frowned at the old railway cat. "Do you not have kittens? Oral traditions? EARS? I'm the freaking Rump-US Cat!"

Skimbleshanks sighed and took a quick sweep of the clearing, desperately looking for someone, kitten or cat, to distract the fiend. At least someone who knew how to pronounce his ridiculous name!

"Hey, Skimble, I was wondering if you could help me tear down this door- Oh!"

At the sound of that voice Skimbleshanks graciously swooped his arm and twirled the red-eyed cat to face the incoming tabby. "Munkustrap! Just the tom I was looking for!" Shoving hard against the gangly Mr. Cat he closed the too wide gap between them and the Jellicle Protector. "You really should talk to Munk, he can help you with your... problem, I'm sure."

"Wait a min-Munkustrap! Holy London Fog, it's been forever!"

Damn. Munkustrap's shoulders caved hopelessly and it took all the will power he'd surprisingly had left from the past two days' adventures not to choke that creepy slinky-stack neck. Plastering the cheesiest smile he owned (and he owned quite a few), he went to greet his long-time acquaintance; "Reggie-"

He was cut off with a raised paw and a dignified "Ah ah aah!" Skimbleshanks looked incredibly awkward and rather violated when the multiple-gray-toned cat lay a chummy paw on his shoulder. "I go by Rumpus Cat these days."

"Oh yes," Munkustrap griped, "I've heard."

"Yup! And it's exactly that- or you could say your lack of hearing..." he paused to lean back into the orange tabby and patted the chest of his vest for good measure. "... is why I'm here."

Skimbleshanks, who had been stealthily trying to pry the Rumpus Cat off of him for the past few minutes, coughed and again whipped his head around the clearing stopping when he'd caught his mate reclining on the TSE1 with Jellylorum, and Etcetera snoozing in her arms. "Honestly, I- Oh, what's that, my dear!? Yes, right away!" Jenny looked over from her conversation with Jellylorum to shush him, pointing to the sleeping kit with a murderous scowl. "Sorry, but my mate really needs my help right now."

"That's completely understandable, sir!" Rumpus Cat smiled and saluted the marmalade tom as he quickly sped off. "Mustn't keep the missus waiting!"

Munkustrap watched and waited for Reg- _Rumpus Cat_ to finish chortling at the silliness of his salute. For a second the tabby wondered what his chances of a clean getaway were if he made a break for it while the taller cat's back was turned. Probably not very high. "So, what brings you to the junkyard _Rumpus Cat_?"

The other tom waved happily at a cluster of kittens who'd begun stealing glances at them from their mosh-pit at Tugger's feet. Munkustrap reached up to steer the other back to the conversation by turning him away from the practicing Jellicles. "We're really busy preparing for the Ball-"

"Yes! Oh, yes you are! Which is why I need to talk to you- well _hello_, miss."

A passing Bombalurina hissed and turned to Demeter gently hooked onto her arm. The queens snickered and whispered, glancing back every few moments. "Let me tell you, you're one lucky tom to have all these fine foxes strutting around. If I were you I'd constantly have a raging-"

"Reggie!" the tabby snapped, grabbing the gangly thing by the shoulders and jerking him back to face him and only him. "What do you want?"

"You have a Pekes and Pollicles number in your lineup this year."

Munkustrap sighed. "Yes, we have it in our Ball every year." He shook his head when the grey-smudged tom smiled and nodded. "So?"

Rumpus Cat, suddenly sheepish and bashful, began to fidget with the bug-eyed goggles at his hip; goggles, Munkustrap knew, that were prescriptions for his near-sightedness. "I just couldn't help notice there was nothing in there about me..."

"Oh, Reggie-"

"Rumpus Cat!" the red eyed fiend corrected. "And you and I both know that I should be in that song! You were there, you saw me chase off those flea-ridden mutts!"

"Yes, I know, but the thing is you're not a Jellicle," Munkustrap tried to explain for the zillionth time. "I told you this last year and the year before, and I'm going to tell you again: the Jellicle Ball is to celebrate the accomplishments of _Jellicle_ cats-"

"So!?" Rumpus Cat whined, slapping away Munkustrap's paws and whipped his arms across his chest. "I'm just as good-no, I'm _better_!- than any of you! Make me a Jellicle and let me have the bloody song!"

"I can't- look, can you sing?"

Rumpus frowned, twisting that wide mouth of his into a distasteful grimace. "Well no."

"Can you dance?"

"I guess not, but I can-"

"Do you live in the _Jellicle_ junkyard?"

Rumpus Cat threw his hands up and turned to a jury only he could see. "What are you trying to say, Munkus?"

"I'm trying to say you can't be a Jellicle. Especially not just for the sake of a silly part in a song-"

"It's not just a part in a song!" the oddball hollered. Nearby Jellicles turned and started to collect warily around them, anticipating the erratic cat to crack open a musical number, ring up an emotionally exhausting monologue, or jump Munkustrap and try to strangle him with the unnaturally long mop of his hair. He stormed up to the tabby and leaned in close. "This is my story: my _legend_!"

"I'm sorr-"

"Besides! You're a Jellicle and you can't dance!" Around them a couple toms 'Oooed' and some of the queens gasped; all eyes were now on the two. Somewhere in the crowd Munkustrap could hear Tugger's entertained guffaw.

For his part the tabby put his paws on his hips and laughed. "Who says I can't dance?"

"I says you can't dance; I know how you hang around the back and hope no one notices you- don't think I don't know you can't do the splits!"

Mistoffelees, who'd been watching from the tire with Victoria and Electra, murmured something and burst into wild laughter. Victoria blushed hotly, her eyes quickly darting away and Electra gave the tux a hard smack to the back of the skull.

"So if I can dance then you have to make me a Jellicle! C'mon, try me out!" Jumping back to the center of attention, he managed a wobbly twirl and slowly, _veeery_ very slowly, lowered himself into a decent set of splits. "If I can out dance one of you, I get to feature in _my_ song."

Munksutrap grinned down at the daffy tom. "Okay," he agreed, a plan forming beautifully in his mind's eye. "Let's get you a dance partner. How about Victoria?"

Still not looking at the silver tabby Victoria skipped up to the split-seated tom and offered a silly smile and a quick wave. Rumpus eyed her a moment while his arms flailed about looking for momentum to somehow slip out of the pose without much... damage. "Hi!" she chirped but he just waved her off with a dismissive paw.

"I saw you practicing earlier, doll, I don't wan't you to get hurt." Frowning, she turned to Munkustrap who was already waving Mistoffelees over. There was no way he was going to risk having to put up with this all summer let alone to wreck his Ball.

"NOT HIM!" Rumpus barked when the tux showed up at his side to help him up. "I know this kit, he's no good. I need a challenge, Munkustrap, not a couple of young things."

"Hey!" the siblings protested, Mistoffelees looking especially insulted and Victoria... slightly complimented. The tux looked about ready to deck the Rumpus Cat when Munkustrap stepped in, nudging Mistoffelees to the side as he reached down to pick the slight thing up by the scruff.

Of course Rumpus Cat knew which dancers where the strongest, he knew far too many things he shouldn't have! After trying to little avail to save Mistoffelees' bruised ego ("You sure you won't give him a shot? He just recovered from a broken ankle!"), the Rumpus Cat looked up at him and said, "Why don't we dance?"

"Like... you and me? I don't think so; I can't dance, remember?"

"No, you can't," Rumpus agreed, "but that means that if I can be even a bit better than you I'll be good enough to be a Jellicle." Insulted but not to be coerced, Munkustrap shook his head and suggested he try dancing with Cassandra or a tap-off with Jenny.

"You just know I'm going to win."

"By win you mean a free trip out of here? I can arrange that."

"Aww, come on Munk! Do it for the kits."

Munkustrap started at that. "...The kits?"

"Do it for all the dreamers out there!"

"Who-?"

"Do it for me, Munk!"

"No!"

Rumpus Cat puffed out his big, obnoxious R and took a deep breath to bellow, "I bet you're just a scared little pussy cat who's afraid of poodles!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU'RE GOING DOWN!"

With a dramatic wave of his arm and a rather awkward shake of the hips, Rumpus Cat turned to address the audience. "Then strike up the music!"

And so the two toms, much to the chagrin of the Jellicles, had it out center of the clearing in a... _thrilling_ dance-off. For Munkustrap it would have been a cinch... if Rumpus Cat hadn't been a slightly better dancer than he'd expected.

Whatever Munkustrap did, Rumpus Cat copied but added something a little more flashy; the flailing of arms here, a couple somersaults with varying degrees of success there, and some acrobatic moves that Munkustrap normally would have found amazing if he wasn't so focused on figuring out how to destroy him.

Oh how he wished he had payed more attention to Jenny's lessons growing up. Now he was down to his last handful of 'spectacular moves': a couple variations on his old ones Mistoffelees and Victoria helped him learn to avoid the growing suspicion that he only knew a grand total of 4 steps.

When Rumpus Cat finished his last set, the fiend nodded and offered him the limelight. Munkustrap swallowed hard and scraped his skull for anything he might have seen someone do that didn't look particularly complicated. They were all complicated.

Looking to his teachers for help he found Jenny pointing to her shoes eagerly (though he'd slept through all her Jazz lessons... sorry); Victoria stretching her arms up over her head, possibly yawning; and Mistoffelees motioning to his outstretched knee, thumbs up high.

_I guess it's all I got left_, Munkustrap sighed. Steadying himself for the grand finale he took a deep breath and leapt, twirled, and kicked before finishing off falling into a perfect set of splits.

"You cheated! You so cheated and I totally just saw you do it!"

"I didn't cheat," Munkustrap smirked from his place on the ground. "I told you I could dance."

"B-but my song! I'm _the_ Rumpus Cat, I scared away those pekes and pollicles with my amazing jaws!"

"I've seen better jaws on newborn kits," Tugger mumbled none-too-quietly from his new place between Cassandra and Rumpleteazer.

Instead of turning on Tugger the great pain in the arse marched up to Munkustrap and opened his jaws wide. "I have impeccable jaws!"

"Your breath stinks!" the tabby whined and waved him and his stink breath away from his face before he started reeking of more than dog. Apparently Rumpus Cats not only have poor eyesight but poor control over motor skills, depth perception, and lack of common sense as instead of backing away he chomped down hard on his too-wide jowls, snapping off a good couple of whiskers from Munkustrap's face.

The sound of 23 Jellicles gasping is a deafening one at best. Looking down at his feet one of his whiskers (or half as the other part was still stuck to his face) lay uselessly in the dirt, the other wedged between the Rumpus Cat's bottom teeth.

They stared long and hard at each other, neither making a sound until the soft brush of a grey shaded arm reached up to yank the whisker from his mouth. "I... I believe this is yours."

Munkustrap snapped, roaring in rage and jumping forward to grab a hold of that freaking crazy neck of his and just wrangle the tabby was close enough for the other tom to see without his goggles so he'd managed to dodge the grabbing mitts and duck past the rampaging tabby to make a solid break for it.

"Ladies," he grinned as he shoved past Bombalurina and knocked Demeter to the ground on his way through the crowd-line. Looking back he saw Munkustrap clear her head and pound the dirt after him.

Later Munkustrap would bewail his missing whiskers; if his whole set had been perfectly intact he would have been able to run straight after the awkward self-proclaimed, awesome-jawed superhero and catch him in two seconds flat. Instead he chased the smug tom to the edge of the junkyard tripping over his paws and veering to the right the whole way.

"Keep practicing your dance moves, Munk!" Rumpus Cat called over his shoulder just yards from the junkyard limits. "I'll be back next year!"


	5. Day 4: In the TSE1

_Warning! This chapter is rated M! (Oooh, no!) It is not intended for those not wanting to read M rated fics :P_

_No word of a lie, I was up until 4 in the morn' writing this! I was so excited to post! :D It's funny how little we see of the actual CAR part of the car! Who knew there was a car part?_

InkWoven: Gee, thanks! I was totally going for a more entertaining Munk. Not that he isn't entertaining, but we often forget that he can't be the uptight, paranoid Jellicle Protector ALL the time :P

* * *

_Captain's log: two days and no sign of snow… or crazy fortunetellers._

"…I tell ya, Misto, those moving pictures are no good. The stories are all wrong too; so fake and they have no morals to them. I can tell better ones."

"Some of them aren't bad," Mistoffelees tried, rearranging himself on the seat of the old TSE1. "I like some of the romance movies, they have really nice music."

"But you don't watch the moving pictures for their music, love! You watch them for the story and the— would you look at this guy?!" Perched on an old stack of magazines behind the steering wheel, Munkustrap hammered the horn— a terribly pathetic _squick_ of air passing out a whole in the top of the leather- and waved his hands at the windshield. "Where'd you learn to drive?!"

Mistoffelees stood from his spot to look out his side of the windshield. "That could have ended poorly. Good thing you're such an excellent driver." Munkustrap smiled and waved off the compliment with a bashful 'Aw shucks!'

"I'm just saying-" Munkustrap started again, "Oops, we mustn't run over the children… well, no one'll catch us so I guess we could just this once." Paws gripped the wheel and the tabby threw himself wildly from side to side, making sure to get all the Human kittens crossing the street. "As I was saying: everything is supposed to be like real life but in the pictures it's actually not like that at all! Do you know what the Human kits do when they court? The toms take the queens to the top of some kissing hill and take advantage of them!"

Mistoffelees leaned heavily into the seat and frowned as he pondered Munkustrap's story. "Take advantage?"

"Yes! They— here, I'll show you. Say I'm the tom Human and you're the queen. Now say I've driven you to the top of this here kissing mountain," he motioned out the dirty windshield looking into a large pile of tires and old automobile parts. "I turn off the car, click, and now we're all alone."

The tux watched, strangely absorbed and completely enthralled by the unfolding of Munkustrap's story, as the tabby hopped down from behind the wheel to scooch over to the middle seat. "…And then what?"

Instead of answering, Munkustrap looked away and inched closer until he was almost in the seat beside him. He suddenly burst out with a dramatic yawn, stretching his arms high above their heads. "And then I… throw myself on you!"

The arm that was stretching wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close as Munkustrap's body engulfed his, the other paw reaching over to grip around his thigh. Moving fast, Munkustrap pinned Mistoffelees to him and mashed their mouths together. He broke the sudden kiss to continue the story:

"I start kissing you like this but you claim to not want me so you push me away." Grabbing Mistoffelees' paw with his free arm Munkustrap pushed it against his chest and retreated a little, wailing in a very high voice, "_But no, Munkustrap! I can't possibly!_" he paused to remember the next part of the movie.

With a nod he launched himself back onto Mistoffelees once again, ignoring the excited giggle for the sake of the story. "But I love you, Mistoffelees! I've only met you once before but I'm completely head over heels for you! Don't tell me you don't want me!"

Once again the slightly resistant white-socked paw came up to "push" against him. With the same high voice, the tabby recited: "_You've got it all wrong_— but do I?"

The story stopped suddenly with Munkustrap just inches from Mistoffelees' face, paw still enveloped and pressing it against his chest. One long finger poked out as he made it very clear that "Yes, you really do want me but you don't want Vanessa and Renee to think you're a floozy: an easy catch."

Mistoffelees swallowed hard, trying to quiet the pounding in his ears. "Who-who are they?"

"They're your best friends and they think I'm a good-for-nothing."

"Aren't you?"

This really struck Munkustrap and his knowledge on the pictures. Gaze drifting off into the discoloured leather of the old car seats he hmmed to himself. "At the beginning I am, but by the end of the show I turn out to be a really good tom and I win you over. But back to the story; I've just gotten to the scandalous part!"

Mistoffelees' ears perked up, eager to listen and even more so to be an active part of the storytelling. "I try one more time to win you over, because I'm a persistent bugger and I know you're about to crack."

The tux nodded quickly and reared up to welcome his body onto his own. This time Munkustrap went for the very sensitive skin on the neck. "'Oh, Mistoffelees, please I need you so bad! Don't push me away, I know you want me too!'"

Gasping and straining to free both pinned paws from his grip, the tux swallowed back the beginnings of a throaty moan and the fingers of his trapped paws dug into meaty palms. Above him Munkustrap shifted to straddle him, lifting the lithe tom higher up the seat to pin him again to the worn leather. "Mistoffelees. Ooooooh, Mistoffelees!"

He continued his chorus of pleasure-filled moans as his body ground into the tux's and melded the shape of him into the cushion. Where their pelvises rocked and banged against each other Munkustrap could feel heat permeate the thick black fur.

Soon Munkustrap's passionate ode to Mistoffelees' name was answered when he began to grind harder and nip at the sweet spots on the tux's neck and jaw. "Munk! Oh Bast, Munkustrap!" he gasped and sucked for air until his hands were finally free to entwine in Munkustrap's headfur and pull him closer.

Obviously Mistoffelees had seen this picture before.

All too quickly Munkustrap stopped and pulled away with not even a tender kiss to bring Mistoffelees down from their skyrocketing game. He ignored the frustrated growl; this story had to be told or Mistoffelees wouldn't see the flaw in these silly films. "You can see where this is going. The tom takes advantage of her, Vanessa and Renee find out, and her parents scorn her and forbid them from seeing each other again."

Panting, Mistoffelees continued to writhe beneath him, looking for his body but finding only the empty space between them. "But I want to know what happens to the two lovers in the TSE."

Munkustrap blinked slowly down at him, then threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Mistoffelees, they don't show us what happens next! That would be far too scandalous for a picture show!"

The tux deflated before him with a very disappointed and extremely frustrated groan. The accompanying pout was something irresistible but Munkustrap restrained himself with a soft, chaste kiss on the lips— one Mistoffelees immediately tried to claim for something a little more steamy but Munkustrap was sure to keep his lips sealed. "How about I drive you home?"

It looked like the tux was about to protest but instead composed himself, fingers unwinding from his headfur. "I— Umm— yes. Thank you."

Jumping up onto the stack of old magazines, grinning smugly to himself, Munkustrap was about to pretend to turn the ignition when Mistoffelees came up from behind and shoved him hard against the door, his thankfully-thick head hitting the grimy window with a soft _thock_. He flipped over beneath Mistoffelees' body, his paws moving to find the smaller tom's shoulders but were too slow as slender fingers found them first and pinned them to the window on either side of his head.

Swollen, delicious lips ghosted up his neck and face, body dragging up his chest and stomach hard and hot, stopping at his ear. "I want to hear _your_ story. Tell me about the two in the car, Munkustrap."

Small hips pressed into his stomach, something hard and bothered digging in with each slow thrust. Managing an abnormally deep and throaty chuckle, Munkustrap nodded towards the steering wheel beside them. "I believe the light just turned green— Ohhhh." Releasing his paws, the smaller tom reached down to lightly drag his claws along his sides and over the thick muscles of his thighs. Eyes rolled like mad behind hooded lids. "The backseat!" he groaned. "They go to the backseat."

In a flash Mistoffelees was off of him and leaping over the headrest to land soundlessly onto the wide row of seats, picking a comfortable spot along the middle to stretch himself out and teasingly rub into the upholstery. Munkustrap followed him from the lower middle seat but stopped short of climbing on top of his sensual mate.

"What's wrong?" Mistoffelees purred and, with a long sexy white leg, trailed his foot up the inside of the tabby's leg.

Munkustrap coughed and tensed up at the touch of the wandering foot. "I— er… I'm still a bit sore. From… from yesterday."

"Oh yes," Mistoffelees grinned. "From your spectacular splits. You made me so proud."

He flushed at the memory, wondering how it might have looked to his fellow Jellicles; believe it or not he wasn't exactly one for the splits. "Well don't expect a reprise any time soon. Everlasting I don't know how you do it."

A mischievous grin crept across the tux's fair face, eying him up from head to tail-tip. "Well I have a lot of practice," he purred, sitting up reaching for Munkustrap's shoulders. "But I believe you've not finished your story."

"Ah, yes! They…umm, they—"

"I would guess that the tom would sit right here," a free paw smacked the soft leather where the seat and backrest met, "seeing as he's sore."

With a sly grin Munkustrap followed Mistoffelees' orders and dropped to the seat right beside him. "And now what?"

Mistoffelees jumped him the moment he hit the cushion, swinging toned legs over his to straddle him and press his body into the car much as he had done earlier. Rubbing and sliding their hips together, Mistoffelees brushed the fur out of his pale, wanton face and roughly grabbed Munkustrap between them. Leaning in close he whispered in a husky voice, "I have my way with you."

Holding tight, slim hips Munkustrap buried his face into his mate's chest and belly, eagerly mouthing and kissing the fur as Mistoffelees lowered onto him with a satisfied sigh. "Wait, I thought I was the tom!"

There was no denying the irony behind the pointed look he'd gotten and the none-too-subtle glance between them. Lacking the genteelness of a queen, Mistoffelees wound his fingers into Munkustrap's shoulder fur, pulled them in for a steamy non-staged kiss, and slammed him hard into the seat with the full, admittedly minuscule, weight of his body.

_"__Oh, Munkustrap_!" the tux squealed in a very high, very queenly voice as he rode him hard. Occasionally he'd cough at the strain in his throat or kiss Munkustrap with reckless abandon before resuming his role; after all this was still a story. "_Yes, Munkustrap, I want you! I don't care what Vanessa and Renee think!_"

Breathlessly giving into hot, messy pleasure, Munkustrap almost paused to inquire about these Vanessa and Renee characters, but instead trembled with overwhelming sensation through which he could barely manage more than an airy, "O-Oh yes… Mistoffelees! Bast!"

All too soon he arched up as his orgasm struck him hard, giving him little time to cry out. No it wasn't the first time this week he'd been hit so suddenly, but this hard assault was definitely something that wouldn't leave him a paranoid wreck… unless he feared what would happen should he revisit this moment later in a less private place.

Above him Mistoffelees gripped his headfur and slashed their mouths in a thrilling combination of a lascivious kiss and climactic caterwaul.

As Mistoffelees collapsed onto his chest, Munkustrap struggled to keep them from falling over across the seat; his bones gone to mush and his brain fuzzy and numb from pleasure and heat.

He held Mistoffelees lazily and kissed the warm fur atop the head that press snugly beneath his chin. "The end," he mumbled.

Nodding against him, Mistoffelees panted for breath. "_That_… that was a good story."


	6. Day 5: Damnit Gus!

**Holy crow! It's becoming one heck of a hectic week! And not only for Munk!**

* * *

"Thank you for walking with me today, Munkustrap."

"It was my pleasure, Asparagus. It's a shame Jellylorum couldn't walk with us, I know how much she likes to look at the flowers in the Farmer's Market."

Stopping across the street from the market, Munkustrap paused to allow his companion a quick breather. The fifth one the took in the past hour. While it was nice and warm today, he really wasn't in much of a mood to see the town; he'd much rather be sunbathing on the tire or spending time with Mistoffelees and his friends— not that Gus wasn't his friend, he liked him perfectly fine!

"Just Gus, m'boy. You know when I was young…" _But not too long ago_, Munkustrap recited. "…But not too long ago!" Gus laughed and pat the dust from his arms with shaky paws. "The Farmer's Market took up all of London proper."

With only the patience earned in years of knowing the old tom, Munkustrap gently urged him forward with an "Oh yes?"

"There were stands of strawberries as far as the nose could sniff; I would always visit this one stand when I was a kit with my mama. I stayed close friends with the vendor until he passed away too."

Yes Munkustrap liked Gus, and wouldn't fuss over a friendly conversation with the old Theatre Cat, but discussions often led to depressing, horrible stories that would take all one's emotional sanity to sit through. And Gus was a very long-winded though short-breath tom. "Yes. It turns out the strawberries were—"

"Oh look! It's safe to pass now, we shouldn't waste our luck on a busy day like today." Young and strong, it took little more than a slight push to propel the tabby into the street; Gus, on the other hand, required several shoves, a moment of collection, another for recollection, and two-point-five seconds to convince his muscles to stumble forward. "Would you like me to carry you across?"

"What!? I'm seventeen years old, my boy! If I could move myself around for that long I sure as Heaviside can now." Right. And he was about as stubborn as a mule.

Munkustrap circled the palsy-ridden tom like a vulture, creating a buffer zone around them as cars eventually made their way over, up to, and around. "Looks like we're the only ones not in a hurry today," Gus smiled at him. Ruefully Munkustrap smiled back. Not only were they not in a hurry, but they were also taking the detour around the market to get to the theater.

With no little sense of relief for Munkustrap, Gus finally made it over to the other side of the street. Albeit half dead and wheezing like a huffery snuffery Pom. "Are you sure you don't want me to carry you, Gus? I can take us through the market, wouldn't that be nice?"

"Oh nononono, Munkustrap!" Gus tutted, waving him off and sitting down for another break. "You're getting on in your years! I wouldn't want you to throw out your back."

Hurt, Munkustrap glanced down at himself, eying the toned muscles of his abdomen that maybe weren't as young and able as he thought; the grey in his coat that maybe hadn't actually been silver in a very long time. "I'm only three," he murmured.

"Three?! I could have sworn you were at least five!"

With a tempered sigh the tabby glanced through the legs of the shoppers, catching sight of the theater a couple blocks across and suddenly feeling very very tired. Then an idea. "It's a shame we must go around," he began forlornly. "I would have loved to stop for some strawberries myself; all this talk of them has made me rather hungry."

Gus nodded and paused a moment to scratch the thinning fur on his belly. "They do sound nice, and I haven't had any in ages…"

"It's settled then!" Munkustrap stood with determination. He was going to risk everything, even putting out his back, to get that old tom his strawberries… and get him to the theater in reasonable time.

* * *

When the word Farmer's Market comes to mind usually it brings with it thoughts of fresh, delicious produce, homemade crafted jewelry, and organic soap made of beeswax. This was not the case— at least for the feline patron.

Everywhere he looked Munkustrap found alleycats stealing things from the humans left, right, up, down, and center. A group of rough looking toms gathered by the fountain for some potentially immoral activities; beneath a rug stand feline queens were lined up by the floor display, looking for the next tom to sire their litters.

A couple of them purred at him and caterwauled gently in hopes of snagging his libido if only for a few minutes. Munkustrap knew these kind; they wouldn't follow for very long if he just kept to himself and kept walking. Lying lazily on Munkustrap's back, Gus saw everything and was watching the young gaggle trail behind them. "Tuck your tails, you trollops!"

The blood immediately drained from Munkustrap's face. He whirled around to explain, or at least apologize. When he tuned to face the queens he was met with a hard, surprisingly very painful, slap across the face. "You're looking for a fight, you gormless prat?"

"No! I-not at all! It's my friend here, you see, he's a little bit off his onion and—"

"Ah! Get outta here, ya bint!" Gus barked and swiped his quaky paw at the livid trio.

"Gus!" Another smack to the face and the queens turned tail to storm off to their strange-smelling rugs. He waited until they were a safe distance away before turning to the shaking tom on his back. "…What the bloody hell was that?!"

"_That_," Gus motioned towards the small parade of queens waving their exposed undertails at some mange-riddled toms. "Was a disaster waiting to happen. I know how hard it is to say no to them folk, Munkustrap—"

"I wasn't going to— Okay, you know what, how about we just ignore the queens next time?" Gus shrugged atop his shoulders and settled behind his neck for (hopefully) a nap.

_Everlasting, is he trying to get us killed?_ Perhaps it would be best if they avoided queens altogether. When he'd spotted another rug stand lookalike Munkustrap quickly steered away, preferring the less intimidating presence of the homicidal toms near the fountain over horny, hormonal queens.

Both toms twitched at the sound of desperate, pained mewls for help echoing out from the center of ten-tom buddy circle. It was clear from the gleeful shouts of "dunk him!" and "don't let the bugger run off, now!" that what was going on was not a diplomatic conversation between consenting adults.

Munkustrap tentatively drew closer, eyes locked with those of the poor yelping tom being pulled and dragged over a rather box-shaped tom's head. His heart ached for the young shorthair that was not too dissimilar in size and age to his Mistoffelees. Without a doubt he was going to step in and help… he just needed to lose Gus and— "What do you buggers think you're doing!?"

Twelve sets of eyes darted to Munkustrap's shoulder, two of which were trembling and glazed with fear. The ten offenders dropped their plaything on the ground letting him skitter away into the crowded market. Then there was only one horrified stare watching Gus shake his crippled fist at the hooligans: Munkustrap's. "Why don't you arse-heads pick on someone your own size!"

_But I'm their size!_ "You mean like him?" one of the couch-sized creatures spoke up, nodding to his ride.

"Well… yes, I guess."

"No! Not me!" Munkustrap laughed nervously, slowly backing away from the encroaching crowd. "I-erm-I…" Now would have been an excellent time to channel some of that Protector bravado. "I have an injury… and I can't exhaust it or it'll get all achy and take forever to go away—"

"That how your whiskers got rearranged, freak?"

Munkustrap swallowed hard. Gus growled louder and spat. The toms crept closer. Damn.

"Come on, boy!" Gus encouraged, kicking him in the side like a rider would his horse to get him moving. "Stand up for yourself!" The parade of underachievers chuckled and jeered.

"Yeah, whiskers, stand up for yourself."

Munkustrap backed himself into a wall— literally! The side of a grape merchant's booth kept him in place while they were cornered. "Alright," Munkustrap said. "Come at us."

"_Us?!_" Gus croaked.

"Us," Munkustrap confirmed. "If you hit me you'll end up hitting him anyway, so you might as well swing for the both of us."

The thug smiled at the tabby, ugly yellow teeth reflecting a blinding shine. "Well you're a smart bugger, aren't ya?"

It was a rhetorical question, Munkustrap knew, but he was very tempted to answer it with the same dung-eating smile. In fact he was two seconds away from showing this pisser how smart he really was when something as shiny and discoloured as the crook's teeth flew right into the valley of his nugget-less head.

All ten heads of the dynamic crew snapped up to the stand behind him. Even Gus was able to crane and lean over to look up behind them. The shaky but bold "Pick on someone your own age!" and the pelting grapes that followed reassured Munkustrap that the young tom they'd saved hadn't left them entirely.

Munkustrap chose to ignore the fact that he was also their age.

While his saviour distracted the thugly crowd, Munkustrap took his chance to storm through two of the less intimidating toms, knocking them to the ground and breaking free.

He didn't wait to check if the mob had taken off after them before leaping up and over the wall of the fountain to splash and tumble into the stale water. Gus cursed at him to get his bloody arse out of the water; he wasn't allowed onto the stage with wet paws.

Looking back Munkustrap found only a few chasing after them, including the tom Gus had so explicitly complimented, the others stayed back to underachieve in peace. Instead of chasing through the fountain, these toms had gone around and weren't struggling to keep up with Munkustrap who now had Gus's full weight and the syrupy water to trudge through.

"I bet your mothers are _proud_!" Gus hollered.

"You'll be able to ask her in Heaviside in a couple minutes!"

"Gus," Munkustrap wheezed, digging his paws harder into the fountain to push forward. "Stop talking!"

With an exasperated leap over the fountain's edge paws met pavement. Ahead, behind that small line of vendors would be the theater. And safety. Behind them would be a merciless beating into next Tuesday.

He'd been just about to take the final corner out of the market when his eyes caught someone sitting in the middle of the aisle. It took him no more than two iotas of a second to instantly recognize the hunched-over queen that sat, playing with a broken top. It was the fortuneteller.

_Everlasting, no!_ Another lethal skid and he managed to avoid running up to her by barreling into a fruit crate. He must have been going pretty fast for the crate just crumpled as he torpedoed through and fell into the green tablecloth and under the table.

Something wet, slippery, and very strange smelling smeared beneath his paws, When he fell over (with Gus toppling off his back just in time to avoid grinding his paper-thin pelt into the brick), it not only helped him slide along but it also made a very dramatic job of turning the slide look like an angry cheese grater attack.

The moment he'd heard the thugs pass by, backtrack, and dumbly declare "He's gone!" and head back to their pals, Munkustrap bolted up and rushed to Gus. Shaking and jittering, Gus looked about as bloody as a newborn kit but as happy as pig in poop. He was giggling. "Looks like you found the strawberries, m'boy!"

Munkustrap helped him sit up and smiled. He wanted to strangle that little old tom something fierce, but the kittenish glee as he licked himself clean of the sweet goo reminded Munkustrap that Jellylorum would be dropping by later. And she'd expect him alive.

"We should get you back."

"Just…" Gus pulled himself up to sit and panted from the effort. "Give me a quick break."


	7. Day 6: Sold Out

**Woot! Finally able to finish this one! It was hard and gave me one witch of a headache to get through. But it was worf it :P**

* * *

Heat pressed into the small of his back, radiating up his spine and out to the tips of his arms and legs. Small, firm paws pressed into the warm sun-drowned fur of his chest to knead and caress while thin lips whispered over his neck. A tongue darted out to lap at yet another strawberry patch.

Munkustrap smiled and stumbled against Mistoffelees' as he followed the gentle nipping at the base of his neck, the passionate pulling of his chest fur. The heat left his back but his body was humming with another kind of heat. "Let's go back to the den," hummed the sensitive crook beneath his jaw.

Slowly he began to nod but, "I start in a half hour—"

He was cut off with Mistoffelees' mouth crashing down onto his, the intoxicating sandpaper-rough flick of tongue chasing away every thought of having to… what did he have to do again? Eventually Mistoffelees parted. "It'll be fine," he purred, winding his long fingers into the fur at the base of Munkustrap's tail. "Come on, let's go."

Munkustrap needn't more coercion to press up into the tux and wind his arms around his little lover to follow him back to their den.

When they'd gotten inside Mistoffelees again threw himself onto Munkustrap and kissed him long and hard until he was practically drooling for more. Munkustrap moaned softly and gripped the slight tom's hips to pull them closer, deeper into the kiss. The paw on his back slid slowly down the length of his spine until a sticky clump of fur caught the traveling paw and yanked for freedom.

Then two things happened. First, when he took a step towards the bed Mistoffelees' body pushed back carefully, guiding him to the other side of the den where they kept their indoor lavatory. Second, something in the lavatory knocked against the steel drum 'tub'… and _cursed._ "What the— Mistoffelees, stay here."

"Why are you going to the lavatory?" Mistoffelees announced. It was just _so_ convincing Munkustrap would have even bought the theatrical cough if he'd been hit over the head with an iron pipe not two minutes ago.

Ignoring the tux (who refused to follow him into the little room), Munkustrap grabbed a nearby torch and reached for the thick curtain covering the entrance. Strange, there was already light inside—

"NOW!" he looked up just in time to see Alonzo and Skimbleshanks soar across the tiny room, arms outstretched and determination in their battle cries. He'd ducked out of the way before they could crash into him, but now he had a perfect view of their dastardly plan: a bath.

"You bastards!"

Skimbleshanks squirmed beneath Alonzo for a grip on Munkustrap's leg. "It's for your own good!"

"You smell like a Pollicle's arse!" Alonzo piped, shoving to his feet with the railway cat right beside him.

Bewildered, and betrayed, Munkustrap tore his eyes from the hideous sight of the half filled tub. "I'm not getting in there," he scoffed. "I don't need a— NO!"

With another soaring leap Alonzo went for him, but again failed to catch Munkustrap and his rising panic, letting him skitter away before making a break for the den entrance. "Munk, stop!" Skimbleshanks hollered.

Munkustrap would not— could not!— listen for the life of him. He hated water; loathed the look, smell, feel of water in his fur and how long it would take his coat to dry even in the middle of summer. There was no way he'd give in to a bath without a fight…

"Stop!" someone barked, heavy paws pounding the floor after him. Just before he made it to the door, though, something connected with the backs of his thighs. With barely enough time to see the arms wrapping around his legs, Munkustrap was thrown to the ground.

Thrashing, kicking, and screaming, it was a miracle that Mistoffelees was not only strong enough to take him down but could also worm up onto his back before he had a chance to stand. "Misto, lemme go!" he bucked frantically for freedom as the other two began closing in.

"I'm doing this because I love you," Mistoffelees panted and slammed his shoulders onto their den floor. "You smell."

_Good thing Misto isn't heavy_, he thought as threw the tux off his back and heard the slight thing land hard on the floor beside him. "I'm working on it!"

Alonzo must have had a hayday on Skimble's scotch for the whatever-teenth time he'd tried to tackle Munkustrap again ended in the tabby squirming just out of his grasp. Skimbleshanks was not so uncoordinated, however, and easily pinned him to the ground much as Mistoffelees had before. Only Skimble was kind of heavy.

"Where's Tugger with that shampoo?!" the tom atop him hollered over his shoulder to Mistoffelees and Alonzo, both strewn out on the floor panting.

"He should be here any—"

Just then Tugger burst into the den, slamming the thin door open and nearly clocking both Munkustrap and Skimbleshanks in the side of the head. "They…" he gasped and sputtered, a small paper bag in his hand and Jenny glaring over his shoulder. "They only had Herbal Essences."

"At least it's the strongest smelling," Jenny added, crinkling her nose down at Munkustrap. "If that won't do the job, I don't know what we'll do."

Tugger reached into the bag and pulled out the pink, frilly looking bottle of shampoo. Munkustrap watched (and struggled to breathe) as Tugger eyed the thing warily and flipped the cap open to flood the room with wonderful scents of flowers, fruits, and everything inherently feminine and untomly. Tugger gagged.

"No!" Munkustrap roared. "I am _not_ letting you put that gunk in my fur, you deranged lard-heads!"

Like stink on a Munkustrap, Jenny was on him in an instant with a stern "Watch your mouth."

"I WILL NOT WATCH MY MOUTH!"

"Maybe…" Mistoffelees began timidly, cupping his black paw over his nose and mouth and pulling it away every couple moments to inspect his palm. Oblivious to the split lip he'd unknowingly given his mate, Munkustrap raved and struggled harder, yelling at his abusers with more colour than Mistoffelees' rainbow ribbon. "Maybe we shouldn't do this: he seems a little freaked, and we don't even have the right shampoo."

"But they were all sold out of the cat stuff, Misto!" Tugger whined. "This was the absolute best I could do."

"The best you can do is let me go and get out of my den." Munkustrap growled to no one in particular. So no one listened.

Skimble and Alonzo, who'd decided it be best if he too perched atop Munkustrap's back, looked between Mistoffelees and Jenny and Tugger. "But he smells—"

"I don't smell!" That was it, he was done sitting there waiting for his bath like a pig to the slaughter; with a final go for freedom Munkustrap twisted and reared beneath the two toms and managed to uproot them just enough to slink away and clamber to his paws for the door.

Tugger recoiled and jumped out of the way as the tabby barreled towards the daylight laughing and cackling like a mad-cat. He'd once again just made it to the threshold but this time determined to make it through… even if it meant taking out the determined Jennyanydots that stepped right into his path.

Because he was a gentletom— and because Jenny would make his life a living hell— Munkustrap tried to twist to the side to avoid collision with the stumpy queen. He'd only caught a glimpse of her smug grin and the stony rock of her clenched fist before stars exploded from the side of his head and sent him careening to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

"He's so heavy. Why is he so heavy?"

Near his head Mistoffelees chuckled and rearranged the grip beneath his shoulders. Four sets of hands held him along his body, lifting his dead weight around like a sack of flour. "If it's too heavy for you, Tugger, we could always switch places."

"I'm not saying he's too heavy for _me,_ just that he's fat."

A little too slowly Munkustrap drifted back to. "It's muscle weight," he heard himself murmur. His eyes finally fluttered open to see the four toms looming over him.

The sounds of water splashing quickly reminded him to be hysterical and he wasted no time in trying to get his two feet on the ground. "Hurry up!" Skimbleshanks hissed and the crowd of toms buckled in to sprint the last few feet to where Munkustrap spotted the tub.

"Please," Munkustrap begged, looking up with big doe eyes into his dear Mistoffelees' face. The split lip had stopped bleeding and had crusted over in a gruesome brownish-red streak. "Don't do this, love, I can change. Just give me time."

Mistoffelees' hard glare softened and he even managed a kind, albeit pitying, smile. He was so close to breaking, Munkustrap could tell. "Not a chance," the tux cooed just as the all-tom stretcher tipped and dropped him into a shallow metal tub of death.

"I'll give you anything you want!" he wailed and whirled to grab the nearest fleshy victim: Tugger.

"Piss off!" the maned tom yelped, uselessly bringing his paws up to dislodge the claws from his chest and mane. "I don't need a bloody bath, you daft tit!" But Munkustrap would not let go. Nope. His life depended on Tugger's shared cockamamie hatred for baths.

"If I'm going down," Munkustrap growled, anchoring his claws higher on his brother's body and ignoring the frustrated protests from Jenny and Mistoffelees as he slowly left the bathtub. "You're going down with me."

The terror in Tugger's eyes was inspiring and something glorious with the promise of salvation. Even the skin and bone beneath his claws shook and relented with the impending defeat. "Sorry Tugger."

Neither toms were able to turn in time to brace themselves against Mistoffelees before he shoved hard against Tugger's back sending them both face first into the tub.

Who knew a cat as thin and lanky as Tugger could instantly double in weight under water? Munkustrap knew, he was still learning in fact! Claws and limbs flailed on top of him as Tugger struggled to find leverage in the tiny basin; Munkustrap's head caught beneath his sopping, two-ton mane underwater.

Someone grabbed him by the thin scruff and yanked him to the surface just in time to assault his mouth with fruity shampoo as he gasped for breath. Tugger shot off of him and out of the tub in record time, shrieking and shoving past Alonzo as he high-tailed it out of the den.

Through the stinging shampoo tears and the tossing of his head beneath Jenny's claw-sheathed paws he just barely made out Mistoffelees' soap clad arms reaching for his belly while Skimbleshanks yanked each limb one-by-one out of its socket to embed the lather.

Hopeless. There was no stopping them now and he knew it. Even his mate, the once loyal Mistoffelees, was shoving him into his deep personal hell. Who was he to trust now? No one. He might as well give up on life.

With bitter, cornea-searing tears he sobbed long and hard. "Why do you hate me?"

"So dramatic," Jenny noted with an exacerbated snort. "Like his brother— what are you doing?" Delving into the water, she yanked him back up to the surface to get at the patch of strawberry stuck beneath his jaw. Foiled, it was then that Munkustrap realized now was not his time.

Eventually Munkustrap's will broke and his spirit fizzled out in the smoky haze of frilly fumes and various rinses; he became a very sad, very pitifully passive lump of drenched fur. The occasional tear ran down his cheek when a little shampoo got in his eye or something got tugged a little too harshly.

The hour passed in a blur.

"Will you forgive me?" Mistoffelees had later asked, not sounding at all remorseful as he rubbed a heavy towel over the shiny, kitten-soft fur. Looking smug and proud as ever.

Munkustrap hugged himself tight with a weak sigh. Forgive was such a strong word; to forgive Mistoffelees would mean giving him license to do it again… and that could never happen. No, he couldn't bring himself to forgive— at least not yet, Mistoffelees needed to know that this was a horrible, irreparable act of treason he couldn't just forgive away. If the split in the tux's lip wasn't warning enough (which it wasn't as Mistoffelees asked to keep the damn bottle of shampoo) then his silent, slightly obscure, week-long grudge should give him a hint.

"I don't know."


	8. Day 7: A Memory

**Wooot! Last Day! (And just on time too!) I'm going to do an "unofficial" outro that wouldn't necessarily be required for the story (if only because I'm really busy and can't get it in on time) coming out in a couple days to tie this all together.**

**I can't wait to see where I stand in the ratings!**

* * *

"Hey toes for brains!" Munkustrap opened his eyes to find Macavity's small, furry head poking out from under the blanket next to him. "Let's wake up Rummy and make him cry again."

Munkustrap glanced across their room to the small bundle of the little Rum Tum Tugger wrapped snugly in his blankets. He just looked so small and tiny and innocent… and absolutely ridiculous with that patchy, uneven mane. "What do you wanna do?"

Pushing into the pillows, Macavity rose into a crouch and eyed the sleeping tom kit, his tail whipping against Munkustrap. "We can throw him."

"But then he'll start screaming," Munkustrap whined, burying his face into the blankets and yanking the edges around him as the ginger cat was letting out the heat. "I don't want Mum and Dad to get all mad like last time. Somethin' else."

The older brother _hmmed_ and lay back down with a thoughtful nod. It was times like these that Macavity seemed glad to have a partner in crime, and times like these that Munkustrap was glad to impress his older brother. "I've got it. Go wake up the space-filler."

Munkustrap groaned and whined and chuffed, but got up anyway while Macavity scampered off into the other room. With an awkward poke, he nudged the blond puffball awake. "Hey, Tug, wake up."

In the palely lit room Munkustrap could see the kitten squint up at him, moving a sluggish paw to rub the sleep from his eye. "Why? What are you doing, Strappy?" Ugh, he hated Tugger's stupid nicknames; Macavity called him _Munkustrap_ or sometimes _Killer_ which was pretty cool. Strappy isn't cool.

"We— umm… Mac wants to play a game."

"A game? What kind of game?"

The door to their room closed with a soft _thud_ and the warm, orangy glow of fire flickered over from behind. "A really cool game, trust me," Macavity hissed and skipped over their beds to plop down by the two younger toms, a big box under his arm.

In between the three, Macavity set the box aside and opened the lid to pull out what looked to be a human cutting board loaded with inscriptions, a few he recognized to be human lettering. "What _is_ that, Macavity?" Munkustrap asked, his nose crinkling at the old moldy smell.

"This," Macavity announced, pulling out a candle from the box and lit it with the small match in his hand. "Is a Ouija board. It contacts ghosts!"

Ah yes, the infamous Ouija board, known for its sketchy ability to contact dead cats and spook the wits out of unsuspecting kittens. Yes, Munkustrap knew this board well. He just didn't know how Macavity got a hold of one and how he managed to keep it hidden from their parents."G-ghosts?" Tugger gasped and hid deeper into his blankets.

"Yes, _ghosts,_ Tugsy-Wugsy." Macavity's glare was sharp and merciless, his disappointed shrug a stab to the ego that even settled into the flippant and disinterested maned kit. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Clearly he did, Munkustrap needn't but smell the tiny puff ball to get the message as clear as a kick to the nethers. "N-no. Sounds like fun."

"Where'd you even get that?" Munkustrap inquired; it definitely didn't come from someone _inside_ the junkyard.

Macavity's eyes went wide with warning. "From a possessed fortune teller by the Clocktower. Now, does anyone have anymore questions? Good. Let's begin!"

The setup was plain and the board was ugly looking but something about it still set off Munkustrap's kittenish fear. It was no secret that Ouija boards were something dangerous and if they, the "Jellicle princes" (as taunted by Bombalurina though Munkustrap must admit it sounded pretty neat), were caught it would mean hell to pay for everyone. "Are there even any ghosts in—"

"Wait!" Macavity hissed and brought his paws down to slam dramatically on the tiny tear-drop cursor. Immediately the thing started going bezerk and zipping around the board. "I'm getting something."

Tugger's eyes went wider than saucers, and Munkustrap was admittedly freaked. Whimpering softly, Munkustrap watched their little brother burrow deeper into his blankets until there was nothing of him save for the shine of two terrified golden eyes. "Wha-what is it, Mac?"

Just then Macavity threw his head back, mouth hanging wide open, shaking like a leaf with his paws following the spastic darts over the Ouija board. "Who are you?! What do you want?!" he pleaded.

A low whine and Tugger shot out of his blankets to Munkustrap's side, hiding behind the silver tabby and clutching his arm as he shook and choked back tears. Munkustrap shushed him and watched on warily as Macavity rocked and called out to the spirits "Who are you?!"

Suddenly everything stopped. The small slider, the ginger cat's paws, his screams, his shaking— everything just went still. Macavity smiled. "**_The fiend of the fell_**" he growled.

Beside him Tugger cried and buried himself so deep into his side it almost hurt. Their older brother watched the little kitten cower and hide his face into Munkustrap's armpit. The two toms shared a quick wink and Munkustrap picked up where non-possessed Macavity left off; "F-fiend of the… the fell, what…" he gulped for effect and to give him time to pull Tugger forward a little bit. Poor kit was white as a sheet and ready to vomit his supper. "…what do you want?"

Again they watched Macavity's lips peel back over his glistening fangs and lick the dry skin around his mouth. Lolling his head from side to side, the creature pondered before tossing his head forward to meet little Rummy's wide and watery face. "**_Rum Tum Tugger!_**"

On cue Munkustrap tightened his grip on Tugger and held his fast as the Fiend lowered his jowls onto the tiny blond head. "NO!" the kitten wailed and squirmed and cried and kicked until he wrenched free of his brother and made a dead-cat's dash to the door. His screams of "Mummy, Daddy!" echoing through the den.

Thankfully Rummy had been so unimaginably terrified that he'd failed to hear Macavity and Munkustrap hollering with laughter behind him.

"We-we're going to get in so much trouble!" Munkustrap wheezed through painful crashes of laughter.

Macavity, draped across his shoulder and holding him to keep from falling over, nodded against him and snorted breathlessly. "He squealed like a queen!" Munkustrap agreed with a shrill cry of "Mommy!" and they both fell into the blankets.

When the laughter died down and the sounds of Rummy's incessant crying could finally be heard Macavity froze and sat up to listen. "…Munk."

From his place on the floor, Munkustrap looked up at the ginger tabby and grinned. It quickly faded when Macavity's silly smile had faded and he watched the ground with morbid fascination. So he sat up and followed his brother's gaze back to the Ouija board.

The groovings Macavity has been picking at earlier had taken on a faint reddish glow and the slider was spinning wildly… and completely on its own. "Macavity… Macavity stop doing that."

"I'm not doing anything."

The two tom kits watched as the small cursor began to shuffle across the board, stopping at an odd marking or two before spinning a few moments then moving on to the next. Macavity stood up on his knees and leaned over the board to see. "Wha-what is it saying?"

"M… U…" The thing stopped, flung itself across the board, and began sliding over to the letters again. "N… K…"

Tears welled up at the back of his throat as the letters slowly continued to complete the set for his name. Macavity coughed when the board had reached the 'S' and flipped the board over, narrowly missing the candle he'd lit earlier. From there the tom picked up the board and flung it against the crumbing brick wall of their room where the thing cracked and splintered and crashed to the floor.

When Macavity would turn around he wouldn't find Munkustrap there. He would only find an empty room in the wake of his younger brother crying as he ran, "Mum! Dad!"

"_DAD!" _Two years later, in a den only a couple yards from his kittenhood home, Munkustrap woke up in a cold sweat, arms flailing for a father that would have been more than a little disturbed to hear his now grown son calling for him in the dead of night.

Paws, soft and comforting to a rational Munkustrap, grabbed his shoulders to shake him gently. But, again, only to a rational Munkustrap would any of this be gentle or comforting.

For the second time in the past 24 hours Mistoffelees had been the poor victim of trauma-induced assaults; the sudden jolt and adrenaline fueled flailing of Munkustrap's limbs lashed out and connected with the side of his face, knocking him off his arse back into the blankets. "For Cat's sake, Munk!" he spat.


	9. The Fin

**Wow! Look at that, I finished a chapter story! The future's looking bright, if I say so myself.**

**Sadly I didn't win but that's alright, there were a lot of really awesome entries and you can't win them all. Pretty cool, though as competition was really fierce and a lot of good stories were put out :) Gotta love that! **

**So here's my outro. We get to finally meet this psychotic Fortuneteller (CrazyIndigoChild self-insert? Not exactly, but she enjoys watching him suffer like I do so it's debatable).**

**Congrats everyone!**

* * *

In the early glow of morning, long before the sun would peak it's hot and blinding glare over the horizon, Munkustrap padded softly along the pier. The boards felt mushy beneath his paws and creaked every now and again, beneath him as the waves rolled in gently and swayed the dock every so slightly. When the wind blew it took the smell of salt and fish through his fur, blowing out artificial fruits and flowers in his wake.

"I didn't think you'd come back. Couldn't get enough of me?"

Munkustrap chuckled, his breath coming out in small gleeful clouds that danced and twirled around his face. "Well, I suppose I should thank the queen who made me smell like a soap shop." She chuckled then but Munkustrap still hadn't zeroed in on her. But he wasn't in a hurry so he sat at the edge of the rotted wood and glanced over the side into the water below where the shadows of big, thick-bodied fish prepared for the morning hunt.

From the abandoned _Fish 'N' Ship Shack_ she dropped onto the deck and staggered her way up behind him, smiling when she peeked over his shoulder to glance at the darting fish he now watched with rapt interest. "That wasn't my doin; from what I hear your brother got the shampoo."

"Right," Munkustrap sighed and leaned back to look at her. Oh how she aged. "You just got Fido after me."

She threw her head back and barked out a strident laugh that scared a flock of gulls from the nearby rooftops who squawked and buggered off or out to the water. "He hasn't seen the likes of you in ages! I think he was just as happy to see you as you were unhappy to see him!"

"Is that why you put this damned hex on me?"

"Watch your mouth, you," she chastised, swatting at him arm weakly but with a fellow-sailor-mouth grin. "Your mother would have your tongue if she heard you cussin' up the boardwalk. And no, that's not why I _helped_ you."

It was Munkustrap who frowned, the old queen sat back with her all knowing smug smile and waited for the cliche, much anticipated "What do you mean?"

"Do you realize how old I am, Munkustrap?" He shook his head. All he knew was that she was much _much_ older than he and was a fairly close friend of his parents- oh, and that she had probably gone off her onion long before she'd ever set eyes on him. "Good. It's good that you don't know- and don't ask! It's very rude to ask a queen her age, especially when she's as old as I am."

The fortuneteller sighed and popped the creaky joints in her back, thankfully not seeing the tabby cringe from the Cat-forsaken sound and almost gagged at the thought of ever getting that unnaturally old. "Yes, I'm very old- and old coot with a lot of borrowed time on her hands, is what I am."

"So... you were bored?"

"I was bored of seeing you bored!" she cheered, lifting her paws up to mash his cheeks together and planting a kiss on his nose. "I'm old- I've known you since you were just a pest kickin' up your momma's tummy- and it's terribly distressing when a kit like you looks old just sittin' there waitin' for nothing to happen. So I gave you something to do this week."

In the distance, over a dark blue hill that peeked over the lake edge, a slim sliver of sun was sneakily spying on them looking ready to pop back behind the hill should he look over to catch the peeper. The wily queen looked older in the direct sunlight; it was a miracle the faint intensity of the sun on the one side of her face hadn't knocked her flat over, she was so frail... _looking_.

He wasn't mad, though. Sure he was traumatized to the point he wasn't entirely sure he could sleep right anymore, and smelling like the Queen's garden hadn't exactly gotten past the other toms, but he didn't feel angry. Okay, maybe a little. But right now he didn't feel particularly offended. "Was it worth it, at least?"

"Depends. How was your week?"

Munkustrap smiled and turned to the water to watch the sun dance across the water, no longer scared of getting caught as it left its hiding place to wake up the whole of London life, start the day for humans at least. He did the math in his mind: the run in with Fido, the crazy door (that thankfully hadn't done any real damage!), Reg- _Rumpus Cat_'s visit, the market run with the surprisingly disgruntled Gus, the bath and the dream... all of that had been a part of this madcat's sadistic plan to get him to do something.

"Meh," Munkustrap shrugged, a little guilty to see her deflate sightly. Guilty but a little relieved: perhaps she'd be discouraged from putting him through all that again. "It was a week. Could have done without the bath though."

"The bath wasn't exactly my doing. Mistoffelees really isn't a fan of grime."

He laughed at that, remembering how insanely irate his mate had gotten when he'd soiled their blankets that night he came back all slobbery with the kibble-scat juices dripping off of him. Flash forward to after his bath and suddenly Mistoffelees couldn't leave him alone, insisting he needed more snuggles to feel better and that he was just SO soft and cuddly. But that could have been classical conditioning at its finest: another thing growing up with Jenny, the seasoned roach trainer, had taught him. "No... no he is not." And then. "You know, if you're bored you can always come visit me and Tugger sometime- better yet you can bug him for a week, he's always looking for something to do."

A grin the size of the Big Ben inched across her face, revealing some rotted teeth and teeth that were missing altogether. "I suppose I could find some time to check in on my favourite kits."

They sat together there on the pier for a little while before it was time for Munkustrap to head home; he had a whole week of lazing about to catch up on! She'd hugged him goodbye with a teasing "You smell cute," and ran off before he could protest.

When he'd gotten back to the junkyard he immediately bolted to the great tire stage and flopped down next to Tugger who had been keeping tabs on the early risers (as a favour to Munkustrap, of course), and happily exclaimed, "My week is over!"

It seemed they had come full circle as they both lay sleepily on the tire, Jellicles strewn about this way and that. It was almost worrisome. "And? How was it?"

"Khaotic. Complete insanity. I'd sooner lose _all_ my whiskers than go through that again."


End file.
